Ten Years
by PixelEm
Summary: A lot can happen in ten years. (Series of oneshots - Spans timeline between first and third movies)
1. Ready, Set

**DISCLAIMER: Does it really seem like the kind of person who owns such a glorious ensemble of colorful vehicles?**

 _June 17, 2017_

"… _Okay. You're good. Focus…. Speed. I am speed. Faster than fast. Hide in the shadows, strike when ready. I. Am. S– "_

"Hey, Lightning. You ready for another win, me bucko?"

"You've got great fuel in your tank, man."

"Be wishing you the best, soldier."

"Git 'er done, Lightnin'! Wishin' ya some last minute luck, buddy!"

"Go on out there, Stickers! You ready to show 'em who's still got it?"

Lightning McQueen smiled as he opened his eyes.

"Yeah, guys," he muttered into his radio, "I'm ready."

Slowly, his trailer door opened, flooding the trailer with the blinding light.

The outside spectators took one look at his face, then, they went ballistic. Paparazzi immediately began snapping photos, yelling at him to "show his good side" and "show us the _bolt_!" Reporters whipped around to face their respective camera crews and started their usual coverage for RSN. Behind the nearby fences, in the VIP seats, McQueen spied several fans actually weeping into their tires in their joy.

McQueen's grin grew slightly wider. He strode out of his trailer, sinking low on his chassis. Then, when he was on the ground and a few of the reporters had reversed far enough, he leapt up, striking his routine pose and flashing his right headlight.

"Ka- _chow!"_

As if the crowd couldn't get any louder.

"Dad- _gum,_ buddy!" he heard Mater say to him via radio, "Ah'm startin' tah think _dis_ might be yer biggest race yet!"

McQueen laughed as he made his way past the flashing cameras. "Mater, I think you've said that about _every_ race you've come to."

He heard Sally chuckling back. "He's just excited, Stickers," she said. Then, after a beat, she added, "…and, I must admit, you've seemed pretty excited, too."

"Heh. Yeah," said McQueen, pausing to flash the bolt at a few more reporters before continuing, "It's my tenth consecutive racing season since I even started my career! How can I _not_ be excited?"

At this, Sally let out a flurry of giggles. "You sound like an overly enthusiastic teenager!"

" _What?_ How?"

"Your voice cracked just now and it went high-pitched for a seco– "

"Hey!"

McQueen flinched at the sudden interjection. "Uh…" He took a moment to recognize the voice, "Uh… Y-Yeah, Sarge? Did you want to say something?"

"No," Sarge groused, "I just think you should be getting a move on before you end _late_ for your own race!"

"Oh… Oh, okay. Thanks, Sarge." McQueen couldn't resist taking a moment to roll his eyes. He drove marginally faster as he tried to push his way past the many cameras and microphones shoved into his face. "Um… Oh, yeah, love you guys too, yeah… uh… excuse me, pardon me, coming through…."

After what felt like at least five minutes of doing his best to push past them, McQueen finally let himself breath again when he reached the open road closest to the track. He looked back, at the swarm of screaming paparrazzos, and his tank churned a bit.

 _"Jeez Louise. Feels like those guys are getting more pushy every year…"_

"Hey, bud?"

He almost jumped at Mater's voice, practically filling his eardrums. "Yeah, Mater," he replied, turning away from the cacophonic audience, "What is it, buddy?"

"Can yah turn 'round? We can see yah! We're in dah pits already!"

McQueen's engine fluttered. A grin pulled at his lips. He turned, searching for any sign of….

There they were.

Mater, Sally, Sarge, Fillmore, Mack, Flo, Ramone, Luigi, Guido, everyone. All sitting in his pit stop area. All beaming, and, when they realized he'd found them, all waving a bit too fast.

McQueen couldn't stop his creeping grin as he waved too.

"Alright, son. Time to buckle down," Sarge butted in again, "I've done some research, and you've got some pretty talented competitors this time around."

"Yeah, but there's some pretty nasty rookies as well, man," Ramone added, "Yo, Lightnin', have you met that new guy yet? The one with the electric engine?"

McQueen nodded. "Yeah. I know who you're talking about. You're thinking of that guy Jackson Storm, right? Don't worry, I can take him on. I've taken on tons of rookies before!"

"We know, but…" Sally said, "Just don't get cocky, okay Stickers? You remember what happened a few years ago…"

"Aw, dun't worry 'bout 'im, Miss Sally!" Mater chuckled. McQueen saw him give her a light nudge. "He's a great racecar! Yah know he'll do great!"

Sally took a moment, and then started laughing too. "Okay, okay, maybe I'm a bit paranoid." She addressed McQueen. "Don't listen to me. I know you'll do great, sweetie. I love you!"

"Now, _dat's_ dah spirit! Ah know ya'll do great, Lightnin'!"

"Yep. We all believe in ya, sugah!" Flo chimed in.

"They shall not know what _bit_ them!" said Luigi, "Especially not when you have _us_ as-a your team!"

"Ti vogliamo bene, fulmini! Potrai mostrare loro chi è il campione!"

"We're sending you all our positive vibes, man."

McQueen let himself laugh again as his friends' rallying cries filled his eardrums. He soaked in their praise, letting it warm his engine. Then his eyes wandered, up to the crew chief's podium, where, if he tried hard enough, he could almost see a spirit tinged with blue and silver.

 _"Yeah. I_ know _I'm ready now."_

 **Hey guys! It's Pixel, again! I got a bit tired of uploading separate oneshots that really aren't all that long, and since I've got tons of Cars story ideas floating around in my head, I thought, why not make a whole series of oneshots to celebrate all the new promotional material for Cars 3? :D**

 **Now, these are going to take place within the ten years in chronological time between the first movie and the third one (yes, they have confirmed the third one takes place ten years after the first movie), hence all the dates at the beginnings. But, just because I'm human, I only have a handful of ideas that could be turned into stories, so I would love to hear suggestions from you guys for future story premises! Let's see if we can do it as one big Cars-fandom family :3**

 **With all that said, see you in future instalments!**

 **~Pixel**


	2. Grief

**Just a quick little heads-up – this story relates back to my other Cars fic, Four Times McQueen Didn't Cry (And the One Time He Did). So, if you haven't read that story, I recommend you go do that now, 'cause otherwise this one might not make too much sense. With that done, please enjoy! :D**

 **DISCLAIMER: …Nope. Got no witty comments this time, guys. Guess I'll just go with, Hello, my name is Pixel and I am just a dorky author who loves talking cars made by Pixar but does not own said cars made by Pixar.**

 _November 9, 2008_

Something happened.

Sally knew she shouldn't be feeling this way about it. She should've been squealing, tempted to drive at top speed all through town in her elation. Still, every time she thought about that one morning – when her boyfriend finally emerged from his cone, smiled at her, his eyes clear and bright, and asked if she'd slept okay – the only thing she felt was confusion.

It was like someone had found McQueen's switch and flipped him on again. Ever since that day in the hospital, when they both watched their incredible Hudson Hornet Doc pass away, he couldn't bring himself to smile. He spent a month and a half refusing to say a word to anyone, racing out of town to kill time at Willie's Butte as soon as he'd downed a quart of oil. He spent it frowning, scowling at the dirt, and whenever Sally so much as looked his way, he'd direct that scowl at her instead.

And now….

Something _had_ to have happened.

She had a slight idea of what could've happened. Just the other week, during that one morning, she'd caught him sharing a look with Mater. Nothing suspicious, of course, but she still noticed the meaning in it. The mutual understanding. The caring glint in Mater's eyes, the slight nod and soft smile from McQueen. Almost as if he was thanking him.

Sally knew how big a heart Mater had, as well as how much he loved the racecar – of course he'd want to help him work through his grief. But what had he done? Sally couldn't recall any instances in the past few weeks where McQueen had so much as looked at the tow truck, let alone talked to him. When could he have helped him? _How_ did he help him?

Sally couldn't ponder those questions for long. Special work had called to her and wouldn't let her look into them again until a week afterward.

~x~

 _"Okay… Posters are up… fences are stable… Piston Cups are in place…"_

Sally checked off the items at she listed them, her clipboard lying at an angle on the polished tile floor so she could see it better. She reversed, checked the next wall, and scratched out a few more.

When the entire list became nothing more than an unreadable scribble, Sally looked up and smiled. Her engine fluttered. She gripped the clipboard in the cleft of her tire, spun around, and burst out the door.

"Alright, guys!" she cried, "I think it's just about done!"

" _Pah._ It _should_ be done," Sarge huffed, "We've been busting our frames over it for a week. You all better appreciate this!"

Fillmore gave him his usual blank, half-lidded stare. "Hey, don't disrespect her, man," he said, "You guys got it on lock."

"Hey," Sheriff barked, raising an eyerim, "How come you two get all the credit when _I_ had to pack up all his trophies? Do you know how much those things weigh?"

McQueen, who stood right next to Mater, chuckled. "Come on, Sheriff. I'm sure you guys did a good job."

Mater's face looked as if it might split in two with how hard he was smiling. "So, Miss Sally," he began, just barely keeping his excitement out of his voice. He pointed a tire. "Can we…?"

Sally noticed his wagging tow cable and grinned. She reversed, gesturing with her tire. "Go on in," she said, "It's waiting for you guys."

Just as she'd predicted, Mater and McQueen were the first ones in, with Sarge, Fillmore, and Sheriff following close behind. She drove in last, her engine thundering – from excitement or dread, she had no clue.

When she made it in, she glanced up at the walls, almost missing McQueen's breathless "Whoa…"

Her engine slowed its pounding, but not before growing heavy as a boulder.

Doc Hudson, their Fabulous Hudson Hornet, stared down at them from every wall. Various memorabilia covered them – posters, old newspapers announcing his wins, replicas of his racing stickers, just about everything Sheriff and Sarge had uncovered back in his garage.

But the crowning jewels of the memorial, she thought, had a cabinet and a wall all to themselves – his three Piston Cups, each polished enough to look brand new, standing on a series of small podiums, in front of Doc's 1953 win photo, an enormous grin plastered on his face.

Sally smiled back at Doc. Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them.

"Dad _gum…"_ Mater breathed, turning around in a circle as he stared in awe. "You fellers really made dis work…"

Sheriff smirked. "Well, thank you, Mater. Took plenty of effort, but I'm glad we did it."

Fillmore looked over Doc's racing tires and asked, "Did all this really come from just his garage?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"Mhm," Sally replied, nodding. "Sure did." She glanced at Doc's grinning face once more, and she shut her eyes, sighing.

"…It's really amazing how much he really had…" she whispered.

Silence washed over the group as they looked around, taking in every detail. Sally let the tears come to her eyes, let them pool under her windshield.

She had to admit – they _did_ do a good job.

The tranquility didn't last long, though.

Sally heard the squeak of tires against tile, and her eyes shot open again. She turned around.

McQueen had his bumper facing her, keeping his eyes locked on the newspaper headlining Doc's "epic return" as his crew chief. She realized he'd been completely quiet the whole time, to the point where she forgot he was even there, and a pang struck her.

Clearing her throat she approached him, lightly tapping his back fender. "Do you… do _you_ like it, Stickers?" she tried.

For a few beats McQueen continued his silence. Then his frame rose and fell as he let out a sigh.

"It's…" He chuckled, spinning around to face her. He smiled. His eyes were soft.

"…It's great, Sal. You did great."

Relief flooded Sally's inner workings. She let herself smile too, her gaze flitting towards the same newspaper that McQueen had his on.

 _"I'm glad you like it…"_

"A _hum."_

It took every ounce of strength Sally had not to grimace at Sheriff's voice.

"As much as I would love to stay on the nostalgia train, we still have work to do," he barked. Sally heard him punch the door open. "Come on. I know it's only three-thirty, but you never know when tourists might pass through. So let's _get."_

Sally rolled her eyes, but still said, "Fine, Sheriff. Come on guys, let's go."

With that, they all snuck one last peek at Doc's pictures, left the building, and dispersed to their respective stations. Sally brought up her clipboard as she drove, clucking her tongue as she flipped the page to her bulleted notes.

 _"Okay, now that that's done…"_ she thought, _"Let's see… what's on the agenda now… hmm… Yes, of course, paperwork. Always gotta check on that… Oh, right, yeah, Ramone needs me to file some orders for more paint… Lizzie needs some new hubcaps, better talk to Mater and see if he can find some for her… Geez Louise, Sheriff wants us to check our voting registrations a_ gain _? Is he turning paranoid or is it just me– ?"_

She halted. She looked up from her papers, her eyes growing wide. She replayed what had cut through her thoughts, just to make sure she hadn't misheard.

She turned.

Mater's junkyard faced her from the right side. She couldn't see the titular tow truck in there – then again, he could've been hiding behind his piles of scraps. Sally set her clipboard on the side of the road, then inched a few tentative tirecycles towards the junkyard.

On the other side of the fences, behind the mountains of rusted parts, came the noises – muffled, strained, like stifled sobs.

Sally felt a pang in her engine and sighed.

" _Sorry, Red,"_ she thought, _"I'm sorry if the memorial thing set you off again. It made me cry too, buddy."_

Sally glanced at her clipboard, stared at the responsibilities lining the page. She bit the inside of her cheek. She could spare a few minutes. Just to help Red at least breathe a bit easier.

She drove closer, listened closer as the sounds grew slightly louder.

"Ssh… N-No bud, it's okay, ssh ssh… Yer okay… Easy… Jus' let it out… No no, dun't hold yer breath, it'll only hurt more… dere yah go, buddy…"

Sally stopped. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

" _Oh. Okay. Mater's got it."_ She listened for a bit longer, and then grinned. _"Sounds like he's doing a pretty good job. He's definitely got this."_

Her engine lifted at her own thoughts. She reversed, still smiling as she reached for her clipboard again.

This time, when a familiar noise touched her eardrums, she froze up mid-stretch. Her smile fell away. A small gasp escaped her. She glanced back at Mater's junkyard, her mouth falling open.

Last time she checked, Red didn't speak.

Any thoughts of the scribbles on her clipboard left her mind as she drove through the entrance, around a few scrap mounds.

"Mater?" She turned a corner, looking past a haphazard pile of used hoods. "Mater? Are you– ?"

Her engine jumped at what she found.

Mater had his tow cable facing her, keeping an iron-clad focus on his task. He kept repeating those soothing words from before, his voice gentle as he comforted the soul sobbing into his front bumper. And that soul – gripping Mater's fender as if it was a life preserver, shuddering each time he took in a breath, the tears seeping past his scrunched-up eyes making his red paint shine in the sunlight –

"…Stickers…?" His name came out in a hoarse whisper.

Neither Mater nor McQueen heard her. Or, if they did, they paid her no mind. McQueen kept crying – _"Good Ford, it feels weird to say that…"_ – and Mater kept doing his best to calm him down.

And, when Sally strained her eardrums, she heard her boyfriend struggling to speak, just as she'd heard outside.

"…I… I'm so– I'm so-orr…" McQueen hiccupped after each attempt, unable to get the words out. He smothered his face further into Mater's bumper. "…I-I… I'm so-o-orr– "

"No no, buddy, ssh, it's alright," Mater said quietly. He stretched out a tire, rubbing comforting circles into McQueen's fender. "Yah didn't do anythin' wrong. Jus' let it all out."

Sally blinked, her eyes widening with each one.

At Mater's words McQueen actually seemed to relax. The creases in his eyerims smoothed out. He sunk low on his chassis. He took in a huge breath, held it, then let it back out. No catches. No trembles. He let go of Mater's fender, opening his eyes. Sally almost winced – they were tinged with red.

 _"He must've been crying for a while…"_

McQueen stared at the ground, swallowing hard. Then he looked up at Mater, and he smiled.

"T-Thanks, buddy…" he said, "…I… I just needed to– "

It was then that McQueen's gaze met Sally's. He immediately shut up, reversing a bit as his eyerims rose. Mater reversed as well and, as soon as he noticed Sally, went rigid, a small gasp escaping him.

For a few beats no one said anything. To Sally, it could've been years. They all stood there, each car staring at each other with shocked, bewildered expressions. Though her mouth hung open Sally didn't say a word – what could she say? I've never seen you cry before? How long ago did you start? Did the memorial set you off? Was it me just saying his name?

Why are you doing all of this _now?_

The silence hung in the air like a smoke cloud. Then, after several prolonged seconds of it, McQueen pushed it aside.

"…How long have you been standing there?" he asked. His voice shook a bit, though he still managed to project it.

"Um…" Sally blinked, shaking her cab slightly. "Uh– n-not long at all, just… just a few moments."

At this, McQueen let out a sigh. "Okay…" He sniffed, then cleared his throat. "I uh… I'm gonna go drive a couple laps around Willie's Butte. I'll see you guys later."

Then, as he rose to his tires, he turned to Mater and, a soft grin adorning his grill, mouthed something to him. When she analyzed it, Sally knew exactly what it was.

 _"Thanks, buddy."_

With that, McQueen was off. Sally watched him as he drove away, picking up speed as soon as he was out of the junkyard. She stared after him, even after he disappeared completely.

Her mind's eye flooded with memories, almost photographic in their vividness.

 _Flash._ McQueen stoic as he watched Doc die.

 _Flash._ McQueen scowling that first time she'd asked if he was okay.

 _Flash._ McQueen shouting at her, at the town, his voice breaking from the anger.

 _Flash._ McQueen trying so hard not to break down at the funeral, so much so that he cut his speech short and stalked off.

 _Flash._ McQueen pushing her away every time she tried to help him, growling at her every time she asked how he was feeling, hardening and glaring at the ground while she sat sobbing beside him –

 _Flash._ McQueen crying. McQueen sobbing his eyes out. McQueen hiccupping and choking on his own words as he pours his emotions out in front of his best friend.

 _Flash._ Mater comforting him. Mater letting him weep on him, even encouraging him to do it. Mater gently stroking his friend's fender, either to help him relax or to wipe his tears.

 _Flash._ McQueen smiling. McQueen laughing at jokes. Talking with Flo. Talking with Mater. Talking with her. Like the other McQueen never existed. Like he'd never shut anyone out in the first place. Never let himself become so sad.

"Uh… Miss Sally?"

Mater's voice dunked Sally back into reality. He faced her, standing a few inches closer than he had been before. His eyerims knitted.

"…Yah doin' alright?" he asked.

Sally blinked. "…Did something happen with you guys?"

Mater blinked back. "…Whadya mean?"

"I don't know, it's just…" She pointed. "…He was … He was _really_ going for it, but… it seemed like he wasn't…"

She knew she couldn't say what she wanted to say. He'd never cried like that before. He didn't seem to be embarrassed about it. He was really opening up to you.

How were you so good at helping him?

"…Oh …Oh, yah mean dat?" Mater finally replied after some thought. "I think it was dah memorial. Y'know. Memories a' Doc still upsettin' 'im."

He said it so casually that Sally almost coughed.

"…And he didn't push you away?" She couldn't stop that one from slipping out. "He didn't tell you to leave him alone or anything?" Or that one.

Mater's gaze flitted to the ground. "…Well, yeah." He rubbed a tire into the ground. "I mean… he needed tah let it all out again."

"A _gain?"_ Sally repeated. "What do you mean, again?"

"'Bout a week ago, he was cryin' like dat dah first time. We was jus' headin' back tah town afta' spendin' the night tractor tippin' and– "

"You took him tractor tipping?" Sally's voice almost went high-pitched from her astonishment. "What– but, why did he decide– ?"

"Miss Sally, Ah dunno why he suddenly wan'ed tah do somethin' fun," Mater interrupted, spreading his tires and shaking his cab, "Ah really don't. But he wan'ed to, so we did."

"…And then he started crying?"

"W-Well, not exactly," Mater elaborated, "See, we was drivin' home, and we were both 'bout ready tah crawl inta bed when he saw Willie's Butte."

" _Oh."_ Sally's engine twisted. _"Oh._ Oh _."_

"Ah went an' told 'im 'bout yer plans fer that memorial thing, an' he'd been doin' fine all night, but… He started cryin' right there. Shakin' so hard an' needed me tah hold 'im." Mater paused then, his expression growing solemn. He sunk low on his chassis. "…He jus'… He looked so sad… Ah couldn't jus' let 'im work it out alone. Ah had tah do somethin'. So… Ah jus' sat wit' 'im till he thought he was okay."

Sally's face softened. She stared at the dirt, her mind buzzing.

He'd known exactly what to do. He'd been with his friend when he'd needed him, let him cry his heart out when he couldn't bear the pain any longer, let him be upset. Let him be sad. Helped him.

Sally thought back to every time she'd tried to help, every time she'd told him "It's okay" or "Stickers, it was for the best", every time she'd tried to push him in the right direction with him kicking and screaming the whole time.

Her engine ached.

"…Miss Sally?"

"…N-No, Mater, I'm fine. I'm just thinking." She shook her cab hard, just enough to push away the thoughts. She reversed, glancing at the exit. "I, uh… I'd better get back to work. I've got paperwork to finish."

"Oh, uh… yeah, sure," Mater replied. As she drove off she heard him call out, "Talk tah yah later, Miss Sally!"

Needless to say, paperwork was the last thing on Sally's mind then.

~x~

Sally felt lucky her boyfriend was a liar. Made it a heck of a lot easier to track him down.

Instead of driving circles around the Butte he'd sped off to Wheel Well, completely scarce from tourists thanks to the lowering sun. He sat in a parking space near the cliff, staring out at the horizon. Every once in a while his frame rose and fell as he let out a yawn.

Sally sighed through her hood, pursing her lips. Slowly, she drove up, clearing her throat once she was close enough

"Hey, Stickers."

McQueen jumped a little, reversing in surprise. Once he saw Sally, his lips curled into a small smile. "Oh. It's just you, Sal."

Sally smiled back as she parked in the space next to him. "What're you thinking about?"

"How do you know I was thinking stuff?"

Sally cocked an eyerim, her grin turning smug. "You practically jumped out of your frame when you heard me coming."

McQueen let out a chuckle. "Okay, fine. I was thinking." He turned his gaze to the sky, staring up at the sun as it descended behind the mountains. "Kinda hard not to when you haven't got any races to worry about. At the moment."

"Mm…" Sally nodded, following his eyes. Then, after a couple beats, she glanced back at him. She inched a half tirecycle forward.

His face appeared blank enough. He stared off into space, his mouth pulled into a straight line. His eyes, however, told a different story. They seemed clouded, still tinged with a little red after his breakdown earlier.

Sally found herself looking at his fender, at the dried tear streaks still staining his paint.

She winced softly, dropping her gaze to the log keeping her from accidentally driving off the edge. A boulder sat in her tank. Guilt stabbed at her engine.

"…I didn't mean for you to see me like that…"

He said it so quietly Sally almost didn't catch it. She looked at him. "What?"

McQueen frowned now. He didn't dare meet her eyes, keeping them locked on the peaks of the distant mountains. "…I didn't mean to cry like a baby again…" He sighed as he shook his cab, shutting his eyes. "…I just… I _really_ thought I could handle it this time…"

"No no no, don't apologize," Sally said, resting a tire on his side. "I was crying too, Stickers. You're not the only one who got upset."

McQueen groaned and shook off her tire. "Why does it always have to feel like– ?" He gritted his teeth, grimacing as he screwed up his eyes.

Sally, who'd whipped her tire back under her fender when he pushed her away, drove a few tentative inches forwards. "What?" She jostled his tire. "What? What feels like what? Stickers, please, just talk to me…" It took every ounce of strength she had not to let her voice shake.

"I just…" McQueen sighed. He glanced at her – remorse shown in his eyes. "Sal, I… I'm sorry…"

Sally blinked, raising an eyerim. " _Sorry?"_ she repeated, incredulity tinging her tone. "What're you sorry for? It's not your fault you had to break down– "

"N-No, it's just…" He whined through his teeth, shutting his eyes. When he opened them up again Sally thought she caught them glistening.

"…I'm sorry for being such a _jerk…"_

"What?" A muscle jumped in Sally's fender. "You… when were you a jerk? You didn't– "

"Oh, come on, Sal, _you_ remember…" His eyerims furrowed. He still refused to look at her. "…Right …Right after Doc died… Oh, Ford, how can I say it… I'm sorry for yelling at you guys like that. You were just trying to help me, and…"

" _Oh…"_ Sally's eyes widened. _"…_ Oh… _"_

"…N-No… No no, Stickers, that's… you don't have to apologize for that," Sally said, driving forwards. "You don't have to apologize for _any_ of that. You were just up– "

"Who cares if I was upset?" Sally flinched at the venom in his voice. "You were trying to help me. You all were. And what did _I_ do?" He barked a harsh laugh, scuffing a few stones off the cliff. " _Tch_ … _I_ scared you guys enough to make you _stop_ trying… I wanted to shut up in my cone like some pathetic loser instead of listening to you…"

"Stickers!"

McQueen ignored her plea and continued to rant, "I _wanted_ to be sad, I _wanted_ to punch something because I was "upset", so I shut you all out, you _can't_ tell me that didn't hurt! You _can't_ tell me that I didn't scare– !"

"McQueen, _you_ weren't the jerk!"

This time it was McQueen's turn to start and whip around. He stared at her like she'd just sworn at him. She didn't blame him. Her friends seldom heard her raise her voice like that, even Flo, who knew her the closest. But it managed to get McQueen's attention.

Sally sank back down on her tires, so low that her fenders almost touched the ground. She stared her boyfriend dead in the eyes. "I… Lightning, you weren't the jerk," she said in a much softer voice. She angled a tire towards herself. " _I_ was the jerk. You might think I was trying to help, but… I wasn't. I saw how upset you were. I saw how depressed you were– how much you needed to just… let it all out."

She took a brief moment to thank Mater for that wording.

"But… I couldn't see that I wasn't helping. I kept pushing you. I kept trying to make you…" Her engine grew heavier, and she winced before continuing, "…I kept trying to make you hurry up… I knew it wasn't good for you to hide away like that, but I never should've tried to rush you through your grief like that."

As he listened McQueen's expression softened. He shook his cab lightly. "Uh– S-Sally, I– "

Sally cut him off with a sharp gesture from her tire. "I-I saw you with Mater back there," she went on, pointing behind her, "He was… He told me everything. You made more progress with what _he_ did than what I ever did. You were crying and upset and hurt, yeah, but after all that, you were o _kay._ He got you through it. He was _there_ for you…"

The lump she'd been fighting finally lodged itself in her throat. She gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.

"… _And I_ wasn't _…"_

"…Hey… Hey, Sal, that's not you being a jerk."

Sally opened her eyes and found McQueen standing just in front of her, empathy and sincerity shining in his eyes. He reached out a tire, resting it on her fender.

"Sally, even if it didn't work, you were still trying to help," he said, "Think about it, you– you were doing way better than I ever did! You knew it wasn't good to keep wallowing, so you didn't! You knew how to deal with it!"

"But Stickers, I'm not you," Sally retorted, " _I_ know what grief feels like. I'm no stranger to death. Of course I know how to deal with it. But _you_ didn't! I should've seen that!"

McQueen opened his mouth for another retort, but couldn't seem to find one. He let his tire drop to the floor, his eyes growing solemn. He let out a sigh, and Sally did the same. He drove back into his parking space. Sally did the same into hers.

For a long while neither car said a word. Sally looked up at the sky, now colored a light orange, and quietly asked Doc what he thought of them right then.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…So …You're no stranger to death, you said?"

"Yeah."

"…Do you mind if I ask?"

"No, it's fine. It was my grandmother. Engine failure."

" _Ehh_ … Just like Doc."

"Yeah. You can probably tell why I took his death so well. Okay, no, not well, but… you know…"

"Better than me?"

"Yeah…"

"Yeah… I've never gone through that before. It was just… I don't know, I just… I didn't know _what_ to feel. I didn't want to feel sad 'cause, well, it hurt, I didn't want to feel remotely happy 'cause I didn't think that was respectful, I was angry and upset and just… _huhhh,_ it's just all so messed up…"

"…I think death is supposed to be messed up. If it wasn't, we wouldn't be so sad, would we?"

"… I guess so…"

"And… we both turned out okay, didn't we? I dealt with it, Mater helped you deal with it… We're fine now. Still hurts, but… you're okay, right?"

"Yeah. I am. It's just sad…"

"I know, sweetie. It is sad. But we made it through."

"Yeah…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…I…"

"Yeah?"

"…I …I just _miss him…"_

A nuzzle. A nuzzle back. A tire holding onto his. Tears filling their eyes. Spilling over. Twin smiles on their grills.

"I do too, Stickers. I miss him too…"

 **Aww, SalQueen really is adorable :3 I might not give them as much attention as other ships (coughMaterandHolleycough), but that doesn't mean I don't still love them.**

 **Anyway, hope that was a good one! I purposefully made it as long as my other oneshots because, let's be real, Ready Set was not that long of a story…**

 **Oh, and one last thing: if I made any mistakes or if anyone is out of character, please let me know so I can make some edits :)**

 **Hope to see you all in the next one!**

 **~Pixel**


	3. Lazarus

**…** **Okay, um… I swear I don't mean to write so many sad stories all at once XD**

 **Yeah, here's a quicky to let you all know that I'm still around (I am getting pretty busy with life though…). And, I swear one day, I'm sure I'll write a story that's mostly happy XD**

 **Oh, and another note: this is another one connected to Four Times McQueen Didn't Cry.**

 **With all that said, please enjoy! :'D**

 **DISCLAIMER: …I'm fairly certain that, if you write stuff on this site, then it's pretty clear that you don't at all own the properties you're writing about…**

 _September 28, 2008_

Doc remembered a line from a song he once heard, about how, when the singer died, he would just lie there and "think about stuff". So he decided to do just that.

He couldn't really do anything else, of course. He'd been lying in the hospital bed enough today to realize that he wasn't getting back up any time soon. A permanent ache banged against his frame. His tires felt like lead blocks, his eyelids like they'd been held down with tape. So exhausted. Too tired to open his eyes or twitch a tire – too tired to go yet. It was either kill time in his head or keep listening to the nurse shuffle behind him, yanking cords out of the wall. And anything was better than waiting to die.

He couldn't help thinking about how all this garbage even started. He'd been on the dirt track, pouring all his energy into his racing – _"Some poetic irony THIS is…"_ – when the engine attack seized him. Then, from that moment, the atmosphere had shifted. It went from _"Come on Doc"_ to _"Sit and slow down so no one flies into a panic"._ And yet, despite the whirl of pain he'd been trapped in, Doc remembered how all he could think of was _them._ The town. His family. How they must've been reacting. How worry would definitely keep them wide awake that night.

They'd been on his mind throughout his hospital stay as well. He couldn't help imagining them carrying out their daily routines – Flo serving up premium oil, Luigi and Guido giving long-winded suggestions to customers scouting for tires, Ramone spraying a new shade of green or blue or yellow on a tourist, Sally giving passers-by a through tour of the Cozy Cone – he even dared to think about Mater or Sheriff leading a group of elated fans through his racing museum, only to finally tell them that the Fabulous Hudson Hornet was out of order that day. And the next day. And the day after.

Pretty soon the whole world would know he was out of order for good.

…Now _that_ was something that astonished him.

Who would've thought that, fifty whole years after kicking him out, the racing industry would welcome him back with open axels? He certainly didn't. He'd shoved any and all memories of _those_ days down into the recesses of his mind – he wouldn't let himself think of them, no no. Not after moving on the way they did. Not after pushing him into the sidelines because some snot-nosed rookies wanted the top spot this season. And just about every other season.

 _There_ was some more poetic irony, he noted – after replacing him with some rookie kids, yet another rookie kid managed to actually make them care about him again.

The kid…

Doc didn't think it was possible at this point – every inch of his frame was practically numb – and yet, the moment red racer entered his mind, he couldn't help the sharp pang in his engine.

He knew he was here. He'd been here every day for the past month, checking in on him. He'd brought in Sally too, just like he'd done every other week. Doc had heard his voice every single day, either to greet him or give him updates on the town – and, just mere moments ago, to scream at the doctor to save him from this…

This would hit all of them hard. Each of his friends, like a sledgehammer to the roof. And yet, somehow, Doc felt it would hit McQueen especially hard.

Though he hadn't been nearly as partial to the kid as he was now, Doc had still observed him that first week he'd stayed in town. At first he'd dismissed him, decided early that, based on what had transpired in the courtroom and out on the road, he was just another hotshot. No concerns but his own. Then, after a while, something had struck Doc about him.

The kid just would… _not give up._

Rather than finish fixing the road as quick as a racecar could drive and buzz off, he'd stayed. Not because he enjoyed the town or the hospitality, but because he kept going back to that Dodge Ram turn on the Willie's Butte track. Doc couldn't believe he'd been feeling this way about it, but based on the sheer persistence, he'd actually gained a smidge of respect for the rookie.

…Only to have it dashed away when the kid sprayed dirt in his face for daring to give him tips on perfecting it.

From that day on, there was just something about the racer that… annoyed him. Maybe it was because he'd caught him snooping around his garage. Maybe it was the fact that both Mater _and_ Sally had fallen completely smitten for him. Maybe it was the fact that the kid just _wouldn't go away…_

So he'd called his team.

In the present, Doc wanted to wince. As if he didn't have enough to feel guilty about.

Because now, looking back… Doc couldn't fathom why he'd ever even thought up getting rid of him.

Because who would want to get rid of the guy who rekindled your love of your career? Who could ever hate the kid who'd shown your audience that he was still great, even in his veteran years? Who could sneer at the one who finally gave your family another chance to do the jobs that they loved, to help them find their purpose again?

Who could hate the kid who helped you get back on your tires? Who helped you smile after you swore you would never have the time of your life again?

Doc heard a sudden grunt beside him, bringing him back to reality. He felt a tire wrap around his own – somehow he knew it was McQueen's. He listened to him sigh.

Doc's engine thumped and grew heavier.

 _"_ _Kid… this is gonna hurt. I'm not gonna lie about that. I'm in pain too, and not just from all the sadness. And there will be sadness. There will be tears. You're probably going to wonder why I opted for this instead of waiting a few more years. You might never understand. Sometimes not even I do._

 _"_ _But… really, right now, I don't want to talk about that. Right now, I just want to say thank you. You didn't need to stay. You didn't need to move in. You could've run off to your next race with a Piston Cup between your tires._

 _"_ _But you stayed. You proved you were way more than just another rookie. You actually cared about the folks in town. You actually cared about_ me. _And that's one of the best things you've done for me. It might sound cliché, but… these past two years have been incredible. If you hadn't destroyed that road I never would've met you. I wouldn't've realized how much I wanted to keep doing what I loved. I wouldn't've have had you as an apprentice. And you_ are _my apprentice – I couldn't've chosen any better, really. Again, it's cheesy, but it's true. So Dodge Ram it, kid: you keep showing the world what you're made of. You keep showing them everything you've got. Take care of our family. Let Sally take care of you. Let Mater take care of you. Let yourself get upset about this – I know you already are – but don't let it stop you from living the dream."_

 _"_ _There's no other way to say it: I'm proud of you, Lightning. So, so proud._

 _"_ _Thank you. Thank you all."_

His engine thumped. His lungs expanded and contracted. Slow. Steady.

He listened to the ambience of the hospital room – a buzzing AC unit, a deep sigh from Sally, a scuff of tires behind him.

Then, finally, the nurse pulled the life support from his body.

Doc's lungs expanded. Engine thumped.

He heard Sally take in a sharp breath. He heard her stifle a whine. He felt McQueen squeeze his tire. Doc wanted to squeeze back just as hard.

Lungs. Engine. Frame. Engine.

Doc wished they could see him smiling.

His lungs took in air. Let it out.

His engine thu

~x~

"…aul? Paul. Wake up, buddy. What are you, a rookie?"

Doc grinned and opened his eyes. "Heh…" he said, looking up, "…it's been a while since I've heard someone call me _that…"_

The red and white 1955 Ford opposite to him smirked and helped Doc to his tires. "Didn't think I'd be seein' _you_ here 'till much later years." His voice was just as raspy as Doc had remembered. "How's it feel to see your old friend again?"

Doc chuckled. "You're as sprightly as ever, Timothy," he replied.

Timothy chuckled as well, then opened his mouth to speak again. Then yet another voice chimed in:

"Mr. Paul "Doc" Hudson, is it? It's about time we met."

This time, Doc couldn't put the voice to face even when he tried.

He reversed.

A black Ford Model T stood there, his eyes wide and bright. His smile, revealing a slight overbite, only grew wider once he realized he had the Hudson Hornet's attention.

"I can understand if you do not recognize me," the Model T said, giving Doc a curt bow, "but you can't expect me to wait to talk to the racecar who made my town so proud to call him their doctor!"

Doc squinted, searching his brain for any trace of this newcomer. The only Model T he'd ever known was Lizzie, and she…

Doc looked back into the Model T's grinning face, his eyes widening a bit. He arched an eyerim.

"…You're… You're Stanley, right? Radiator Springs' founder?"

The Model T rose on his tires and let out a laugh. "Yep! That'd be _me_ , friend!" He took Doc's extended tire and shook it. "I tell you what, in all my years of running that town, I never would've imagined it would become the desired home of such an amazing racer!"

Doc smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stanley. You certainly chose a great town to found."

"Oh, just Stanley is fine! No need for the mister!" Stanley began to roll away, motioning with a tire. "Come on, Doc Hudson! Everyone's waiting to see you! All your old racing friends are here, and I think your parents are there too!"

Doc's engine fluttered at the prospect – seeing so many faces again, after they'd left his life for good – but before he could take off, he felt a tire on his side.

"Hey." Timothy turned towards him, his eyes suddenly a bit serious. "…How you think all your friends back home are doin'?"

Doc's smile faded. His eyes flitted towards the ground. "…Well… they must all know by now. I'm sensing there's plenty of grieving. But I'm sure they'll be fine. They've got each other. They'll know what to do."

"But what about that rook you've been trainin'? Last time I saw, he really looked up to you, Paul. You think _he'll_ know what to do?"

Doc saw the question coming, but he still frowned. He looked towards the ground again. "Well… he probably won't take it well, definitely not.

"…But…" he said finally after a long pause, "he's got all our friends to keep his head up."

Doc smiled again.

"He'll be okay. Eventually, anyway."

Timothy drove forwards and gave Doc's fender a pat. "Yeah. I'm sure he will be too," he said, mirroring Doc's grin. He jerked his cab. "Now come on. We can't keep your folks waitin' for too long, now can we?"

With that Doc spun around and, with his friend right alongside him, started driving down the path Stanley had taken.

"…Hey, Paul?"

"Mm?"

"You know that rookie of yours?"

"Yes? What about him?"

"You think he could convince those Dinoco guys to do something special for ya? Like a memorial or something?"

"Heh… oh, he would definitely creating something for me. They all would. I'm sure of it."

 **…** **Again, I am so sorry for any and all tears I might have induced with this XD I SWEAR I'M NOT DOING IT ON PURPOSE!**

 **Also, anyone who caught all the allusions/homages in here gets a million virtual cookies :3**

 **But just one thing before I end off this one, I have to ask that one question, for a number of reasons: how is the writing in this one? Was it paced well? Did I do alright for my first time writing Doc? I'm only curious 'cause I'm a writer that's desperate for constructive criticism – it lets me know whether or not I'm good at my job :)**

 **With all that said, thank you all so much for reading! My name is Pixel, I love all you readers greatly,** ** _and_** **I hope I shall see you all next time! Until then :D**

 **~Pixel**


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